A/N: First I am so sorry about dropping this fic. I blame it on my recent computer issues. Luckily for those who still wish to read I am back at this in full force. Please let me know what you think. Reviews make me smile and do a happy dance. –Becca-

~And in this world
Where nothing else is true
Here I am
Still tangled up in you
I'm still tangled up in you~

Part Three

They fall into a routine of sorts. Lucas spends his mornings missing class, with Peyton sleeping body draped against his own, and spends his afternoons explaining to coach that he really does want to be on the team again. Peyton haunts his room, or at times the café, staying sequestered in the back, away from eyes that pry. With her hands full of suds and clean dishes air drying she feels almost okay, there is something healing in small tasks, ones with both a beginning and an ending.

It's not till the third night that Karen decides to question her son about their newest house guest. Lucas assures her that he is just helping Peyton, that he and Peyton are just friends and if to illustrate his point says, "Mom, she needs help. It's just Peyton."

With an arched eyebrow and eyes that see clearer than her own son, she replies. "I know its Peyton. That is what I am worried about."

"Mom." is his eye-roll reply as he opens the fridge and pulls out the fresh carton of orange juice. Peyton loves the stuff so despite the fact that Lucas didn't care much for it; it had made it on to the weekly shopping list taped to the refrigerator door.

"Don't give me that look, Lucas." Karen warns. "I don't know how many other mothers would be okay with letting a girl spend the night in their teenage son's room." She doesn't go on to speak about how she is as worried for Lucas as she is for Peyton these days; after all she had a front row seat for all those years where Lucas adored Peyton from afar. Both of them are too freshly wounded to be stepping into something serious. "Just promise me, you will be careful."

Lucas kisses his mom's head. "I promise." And then he slips past her, a glass of orange juice in his hand, heading for his room where Peyton lays stretched out against his comforter, earbuds drowning out her world.

"Hey." He calls, making his presence known, not wanting to frighten her, too much fear in her world as is. He hands her the glass as she pulls on the white cord, the music softly seeping out from where the earbuds lay dangling around her neck. "What are we listening to tonight?"

"Something commercial and a little embarrassing." Peyton admits, setting down the half empty glass, keeping her Ipod from Lucas' view.

"Commercial and embarrassing?" Lucas teases with a smile. "Now this I have to hear." Peyton shakes her head 'no', clutching it to her chest. "Come on. You know you want to share your secret shame."

"Secret shame? You mean like the chocolate pudding incident in third grade?"

"Yes." Lucas pouts. "And for bringing that up…" He snatches the Ipod from her hand and stands, placing it on his docking station. There is something amazing about someone knowing you from childhood, even if they did run in different circles, knowing that they knew who you were when it was all awkward limbs and smiles with braces and yet at other times he wished Peyton didn't have such a good memory. He hit play and went to sit beside her, as Peyton buries her head in her hands. "Isn't that-?"

"Staind." Peyton groans out.

"Peyton Sawyer listens to Staind." Lucas mocks, knocking his shoulder against her own.

"I wouldn't talk 'Puddin' Pants'." And then there is a squeal and a mess of limbs and laughter as Lucas's fingers inflict torture on her sides, Peyton calling out "Puddin' Pants" between fits of giggles that leave her breathless and forgetful of all the fear.

The wrestling match ends with Peyton's hands clasped over Lucas' larger ones, as she struggles beneath his weight to fill her lungs, her curls laying in a messy halo about her head and shoulders. "Uncle?" Lucas taunts, before the word hits both of their ears, suddenly cutting the happiness short, a knife drawn down roughly on their bubble, popping it.

The moment falters, her hands dropping his and he can see the words about to fall from her tongue. I'm sorry. He can't hear it again, not from her, not now. Maybe she thinks that if only Lucas had known, but he knows, he knows nothing would have stopped him from going into that school on that fateful day. She is Peyton, and since she had came blaring into his world, music pounding and tires squealing, he knew that she was forever his.

"Peyton." It's a warning, a shake of his blonde head. He can't say it; it's disloyal to Keith, but its there, the simple truth that he would do anything for her.

"Luke." He can hear the tears in her voice, a prayer, a plead, to let her apologize for some imagined sin, for being saved only to slip into the darkness anyway. He can't take the sound of so much sadness, and the way her olive eyes fill with tears- it has to stop. He had learned long ago that being in Peyton's world meant having to sit by and watch her struggle with more burdens than anyone should have to, it meant hurting for her every time she stumbles and fights bravely to once again find her footing but there is only so much sorrow he can take.

"Shh." His breath is warm against her ear, sending a tingle down her spine. "It's okay."

It's not okay, not really, but she understands. Sometimes you pretend the wound isn't so bad, the cut so deep, so that you can make it though one moment to the next and sometimes in the imaginary it becomes almost true, things dulling under the lie. So she just nods.

It's all he needs, a moment to let the darkness go and suddenly he is blinded by her light, his hands in her wild halo of curls and his lips on hers. She tastes sour and sweet; she pushes and pulls at him, her mind a cacophony of sounds that scream at her but only one makes it through the din, Lucas. Is this wrong? Is this right? He doesn't know, he doesn't even care, not now, not with her arching beneath him and her hands splashed across his back. He deepens the kiss, devouring her, drinking in every last bit of her before the stroke of twelve; he isn't foolish to believe this dream will last. She pulls back, desperate for breath and he knows what is coming next. It was a mistake. It didn't mean anything. Not again. He can't listen to her tell him why they can't be, he already knows.

"Luke?" She asks, her voice timid as he sits up, his weight sliding off of her. He is refusing to look at her and she knows why. She knows the words he will speak. It was a mistake. It didn't mean anything. It's too much, too much hurt, she cannot be told the reasons why they can't just be.

"Peyton." It's a plea but she just shakes her head, and makes her way to the door and out into the darkness. There is more to fear in that room than from anything Derek could ever do to her.

TBC